


In Your Arms, In Your Bed

by lerayon



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Early Mornings, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, My First Smut, Romantic Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lerayon/pseuds/lerayon
Summary: My contribution to the Pitch Valentine's Gift Exchange 2017





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theshipsfirstmate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipsfirstmate/gifts).



> My contribution to the Pitch Valentine's Gift Exchange 2017

Ginny drifts into wakefulness wanting Mike’s lips on her body. His hands are already there. One rests on her hip while the other extends across the top of her pillow; its fingers lightly grazing the arm she’d flung above her head sometime during the night.

Ginny has always been a wild sleeper. When not sharing her bed, she has no predetermined side, preferring to sleep directly in the middle, surrounded by pillows, and apparently traversing the entire mattress surface while completely dead to the world. The first morning she awoke with Mike beside her in an awkward tangle of bedding and limbs, he gave her a play-by-play of her “comatose calisthenics,” and claimed himself the victim of an errant elbow to the mouth. Ginny owned up to the former, but knew perfectly well she’d given him his _slightly_ swollen lip by biting him – very intentionally – the night before. She also knew that in the passionate, sweaty heat of that moment, he had loved it. The growl that had rumbled deep in his chest, and the way he eyes darkened and narrowed in both arousal and silent challenge had told her so. “You don’t get to challenge the call the next day, Lawson,” she chided, gently biting him again.

In the months that followed, she and Mike perfected an unconscious dance of sorts; moving together without waking, their bodies attuned to each other’s movements in a way Ginny regarded as the inevitable extension of the connection they’d once shared on the field. Her constant shifting meant they never woke up in the same positions they settled into at night, but Mike soon learned to shift with her in his sleep, and they usually welcomed the day lying comfortably in a loose embrace.

On this morning, it’s barely dawn when Ginny opens her eyes. From the faint shadows playing on the wall, daylight is a couple hours away. Ginny realizes she’d been dreaming of Mike’s lips; the need to feel them on her strong enough to nudge her awake well ahead of the alarm clock. Neither she nor Mike is much of a morning person. He was born a night owl, and retirement has given him the freedom to lean into that tendency. And although she remains doggedly committed to her early morning workouts now well into her third season with the Padres, before her first cup of coffee, Ginny is essentially preverbal. However, given the right motivation, she can manage a few syllables without the help of caffeine. Mike’s steady breath ghosting across her bare shoulder, the memory of his beard brushing along her inner thighs, is powerful motivation.

Her body still heavy from sleep, Ginny whispers Mike’s name in the dark and eases backwards to press herself more firmly against his naked chest and thighs. His hand on her hip gently flexes, and she contemplates rolling to her other side to face him. Now awake, and apparently reading her mind, Mike murmurs, “Stay there, Gin.”

Ginny hums her assent and relaxes where she lies. Even as Mike shallowly thrusts his hips against her, and drops kisses from her earlobe down to the curve of her neck, he says, “Babe, it’s so early.”

“Mmhmm, want you now,” she replies, reaching back to stroke him where he’s warm, heavy, and already hard.

The noise Mike makes is like something between a hiss and a groan, and he twitches in her hand while lifting her leg to slip inside her from behind. He takes his time, pushing in slowly, and Ginny feels every ridge of his cock; revels in the delicious stretch of him. She whines a breathy, “Oh,” when he pulls out and then eases in again to set a gentle, rocking pace.

All the while, Mike’s mouth doesn’t leave her body. He nips at the spot just behind her ear and laves her jawline with open-mouth kisses. Ginny angles her head to meet his lips in a sloppy kiss, and when their tongues meet, she moans into his mouth and clenches around him on his next thrust.

Mike breaks their kiss to choke out a strangled, “Gin,” and drops his forehead to rest against her shoulder. For a moment he stills his hips, but soon resumes fucking into her with deep, hard strokes.

Ginny grips his arm – still outstretched above her head – as her orgasm begins to build. Needing more, she trails her other hand down to rub her clit.

His breathing ragged, free hand digging into her thigh as he holds her open, Mike rasps, “That’s it, Gin. Touch yourself. Come for me, sweetheart.”

With that endearment, Ginny does come; Mike spilling into her soon after.

He releases her leg and runs his thumb along her cheekbone; nuzzles her with his nose. “That was nice.”

Ginny smiles and hums in agreement, already drifting back to sleep.


End file.
